


But they should

by MadImpossibleJ



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:34:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadImpossibleJ/pseuds/MadImpossibleJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A character study on Stiles from Peter's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But they should

Stiles wasn’t the kind of guy to whom people paid any attention; he wasn’t stunningly handsome, nor talented in any sports. He was only the nerd dude living under his best friend’s shadow.

Everyone thought like that. Werewolves, hunters, humans; absolutely everyone did. But to every rule there’s an exception, thankfully. Everyone’s minds don’t work the same way; the world would be immensely boring if it did.

I, for instance, had different thoughts on this one thing. I knew that behind the fragile look and the sharp sarcasm hid a tricky boy who would do the possible and the impossible to protect those who he cared about. Not only due to his good heart; as a matter of fact I don’t think that’s the x factor responsible for turning him into an extraordinary boy. In my opinion, the heart doesn’t speak too loud in this situation. The problem here is that Stiles is intelligent. If not for the AHDH I bet all my coins that he would be brilliant. And brilliant people not always use their brightness for good; sometimes it becomes a spark and suddenly ignites, like what happened to me.

Actually he reminds me of a younger version of myself. Peter Hale atop of his sixteen years old was pretty alike to Stiles Stilinski I saw behind the joker mask he hid himself.

Well, I knew Stiles was intelligent.

But one day, I found out he was _dangerous_.

***

The sun was giving the moon place when I heard impatient knocks on the door of Derek’s lovely ruined house. Instantly I felt a familiar odor. I couldn’t yet say who was until I attended the door and saw the unmistakable figure of the skinny boy to whom I was once polite enough to offer the bite.

“Stiles” I spoke grinning at him. “What a lovely surprise.”

I heart his heartbeats speed up as soon as he looked at me. He was pretty scared, I could _smell_ it. I almost failed to understand why but then I recalled I nearly got him killed more than once.

“Oh, no need to startle. I won’t try to kill you. Not this time anyway.”

“That is really kind of you. Should I wait for you to bake me cookies as well?” He said and I could distinctively hear _that_ in his voice; his mark; sarcasm on its purest form.

“Can I know what brought you to my lovely house?”

“This is technically not _your_ house. Where’s Derek?” He questioned in a forced bossy tone. I noticed that though he tried hard not to show any kind of fear, it was there and it was destroying him.  Nevertheless it was known to me that happened what happened Stiles would never show his fear to anyone, for the very same reason he didn’t show how lonely he was.

“He’s not here. He’ll be back soon I guess. Come in, you can wait here.”

Stiles did nothing but faced me. A blind man would see he was calculating everything that could and could not happen if he stayed. I gave him space to step into the house, which he did even though he looked very reluctant. I closed the door behind me while observed Stiles look around with a nervous face.

“What are you doing here, Stiles?” I questioned him with a puzzled tone.

“I’m looking for Derek.” His answer was short and simple and he turned to look at me.

“Any reason in particular? Or, you know, there’s something going on between the two of you…”

“Oh, no. Derek’s not really my type.” And there it was again; the sarcasm. I could not avoid a light smile when noticed that.

“What do you want with Derek, Stiles?”

“I wanna know where he buys his leather jackets. His are pretty cool, to be honest.”

I liked Stiles. He was different, _special_. First because he did not simply lie; Stiles lied quite charmingly. My thoughts came back to our talk and the fact Stiles was running away from any opportunities to actually have a conversation with me. I could not blame him but I needed to know more. There was something about that boy that troubled me.

“Oh and I’m sorry for trying to kill you more than once, by the way. That was rude.”

Stiles, who was indifferent to the talking until then, who was just throwing answers to the wind without even thinking about them, changed his attitude. He looked carefully at me and frowned; it was clear that his hyperactive mind was working at full power trying to figure out where my previous line came from.

I smirked while was watched by him. That was good, very good. Stiles was joining the game. I liked that.

“I’m not a rancorous guy, Peter; unlike you, apparently.” He spoke obviously trying to reach me. That much was obvious. Stiles was a smart guy, he could tell I was playing games with him.

“No? Well, now picture this.” I got close enough to him until we were a very short distance from each other. I could feel his heart pumping in his chest. I only hoped he didn’t have a heart attack right in front of me, ‘cause if he died it would be a hell of a waste.

“Imagine that you’re at home. It seems to be a very peaceful night. From a certain point of view it’s a very nice night. Your dad’s free from work and Scott is going to sleepover. The two of you will watch some nerdy movies and your dad will get a long night of sleep. It couldn’t get any better. All of sudden you sense an unmistakable scent of smoke and when you’re gonna check it out it’s too late. Your house is suddenly on fire; in your attempt to escape you realize all the doors are locked. Nor you or your dad know where the keys are.”

“Then the fire starts to consume everything and they start to burn right in front of you. There’s no God, there’s no miracle that stops the screams and the sound of burning flesh. It doesn’t matter how much you cry with complete despair, they won’t stop burning. And in the middle of pure desperation you manage somehow to escape. You don’t know how, but you escape. A while later you find out it was all set up. Someone intended to kill you and your family and friends. What would you do? Wouldn’t you want your revenge? Wouldn’t you hunt them down, _one by one_ , until everyone involved was dead?”

Stiles was desperate. His fear was nearly touchable. For the first time I saw his walls tumbling down. His breath was short, his chest coming up and down rapidly, his eyes watering and his whole body shuddering. And yet he fought against it trying to pull himself back and look strong and untouched.

“You would do it, wouldn’t you Stiles? You would avenge them even if it cost a few lives.” He was on the verge of tears now; only heard my words and tried to answer with no success.

“I’m not psychotic.” He answered and it was clear that he was trying to convince himself, not me. He could simply not believe that he could _feel_ that anger and that it was real.  I smiled at the sound of those words. Did he really think he needed to be psychotic to look for revenge? “I wouldn’t kill anyone”

“Liar! I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles, and you my dear are lying. You would kill them all. Don’t try lying to me, you cannot do it. You may not be psychotic but you keep a lot of rage inside that heart of yours. I can _feel_ it. You and I are not so different.”

For a very brief moment, I saw his startled look turn into something more; into pure rage mixed with a giant fragility before something no one ever confronted him to. And there it was. Maybe for the first time in his life someone managed to see past his sarcasm and funny looks; maybe for the first time he saw himself standing with no walls around to protect him.

I moved away from him and saw him run to the door and I didn’t even pay attention to his output. I was absolutely unsettled because of what I’d just seen. I saw the true power inside that boy; the power of someone hid in the shadows; the power of someone who wasn’t remarkably strong or talented in something, someone who had nothing but his mind to keep him alive; the power someone whose mind verged brilliance and whose heart was scattered so many times and yet he stood still.

Stiles was so much more than a broke boy.

Stiles as someone dangerous although his own ignorance to this fact.

Other people ignored him, treated him as a dead weight; no one feared him.

But they should.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So thanks to anyone who read this, please leave kudos or comments if you liked! Sorry any grammar errors, but I'm kinda new at writing in English and I haven't found any beta-readers yet so (if anyone would like to help me by doing it please feel free to contact me).


End file.
